


Red Sin

by annascathach



Series: Draco's Girls [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:20:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annascathach/pseuds/annascathach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes flutter open, her whole body stretches – he can't help staring. And then, as though a dream, a fantasy, she's calling him, calling him to join her. Draco/Ginny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Sin

Sleeping she's lying on the luxurious four-poster bed. He knows it is his, and can't help shivering a little. Why would she of all people come to sleep in his bed? But in reality, he doesn't care. As long as it is her, her, on that bed, he would never care.

She smiles and turns. He sees the blanket shift to reveal bare shoulders and just the hint of her cleavage. He can see her face now. Her eyes are tightly closed, her breath is coming in shallow little gasps from her lips that open as if to speak. He grins. She sighs. Her hair shifts a little when she turns her head, and suddenly the red curls seem to be burning flames reaching out to him.

The he freezes. She has moaned, moaned in her sleep. "Draco," such an unimportant thing to say. Yet she has just moaned his name while sleeping in his bed.

He sees her eyelids flutter, and quickly hides in the wardrobe, leaving the door partially open. He knows she can't possibly see him. He starts to observe her. She stretches, almost catlike, throwing the blankets off. At the sight of her he is left speechless. She is only dressed in dark green lingerie. The contrast of her pale skin and fiery hair to the lacy garments is stunning as the warm candlelight plays over her body. Perfect, he thinks and nearly gasps when he notices the hardened nipples beneath the bra.

She has fully opened her eyes now, not appearing surprised about her surroundings. And suddenly she moans, her hands flying to her breasts. He watches as she lightly caresses them, pushes the obscuring lace away and closes her eyes sighing contentedly. Her breasts are perfect, creamy and full, looking soft under her tender strokes. Then her hands grab her nipples, caressing and pinching them until they have darkened even more.

He can't turn away from her. This is what he has dreamed of for a long time. Well, in his dreams she hadn't been touching herself, but this came pretty damn close. He let his hand drop into his robes, fighting the urge to step out of the wardrobe. She is close, so close. He wants to be the one to touch her, knowing it is him causing those breathy little moans that are coming more and more frequently as her movements start becoming more and more frantic, urgent.

And ah, now she has her hands in her knickers. He has no time to regret that she hasn't pulled them down completely, for then she starts moving her hand up and down, her hips meeting her fingers in forceful thrusts. She's moaning loudly now, louder and louder. The image and sound of her make him shiver. And then, suddenly, she's gasping for breath, and shuddering, and he too is moaning his release. She looks so hot there on the bed, something very innocent on her face, as if what he has just seen never occurred.

It's part of the attraction. She looks so innocent, and yet he knows there is more. She is fiery, wild, young, free, an open book and a mysterious face, imprisoned liberty, natural playfulness and played childishness, hurt confidence and broken promise, promised heartbreak and confident violence, controlled force and forced control, fire and ice, a wolf dressed in a lamb's skin, the Fallen and the angel. He thinks about how stupid they all are not to see that, not to see her, but what does it matter? She's here now, in his bedroom, in his bed, for him.

Her closed eyes flutter open, her whole body stretches – he can't help staring. And then, as though a dream, a fantasy, she's calling him, calling him to join her. "Draco." Her voice changes. She's sounding menacing now, a hint of cruelty in her tone, mixed with playfulness. He thinks of chains, blood and pain, and shudders at the memories. But that is all long gone. He's far from that, from her. The one who's calling him now is different, he tells himself.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he opens the door. She's looking at him, he can feel her stare on his skin, prickling and strange as if this were the first time. But it isn't, and so he confidently continues to walk until he has reached the bed.

She's smiling at him, a smile that lights up her face. She gets up and pulls him into her. Amazed at her assurance, he puts his arms around her waist and leans down to kiss her on the lips. She laughs, and avoids his kiss that instead lands on top of her head, in her brilliant red hair. Afterwards he feels her lips on his cheek, tracing a trail to the corner of his mouth. He tries to turn his head, but she is holding him tightly in place and he can't move an inch. All of a sudden, he is tempted to smile, yet he knows he won't. She places a light kiss on the tip of his nose that has him grunting with frustration. As she smirks, he's thinking about how good she is at imitating him although he has never seen her watching him in particular. She kisses the corner of his mouth again, first right, then left.

The next moment, her mouth is on his. At first her lips only seem to linger on his for the longest time. He desperately wants to move, to do something, but he is frozen in place. His thoughts are racing. Why is she doing this? How did she know about him?

But then she opens her mouth, her sweet tongue boldly dances on his lips, and suddenly his world becomes all her. All that matters is her mouth, their lips attacking each other, again and again. His hands are buried deeply in her already tousled red hair. His eyelids have fluttered closed. He can feel her hands on his skin, leaving a burning trail, her fire on his ice. She grins feebly as he caresses the corner of her mouth with his tongue, his hands simultaneously gliding down her back. Moaning softly, she responds in kind: Suddenly he feels the cold rush of air on his chest, and he shudders. His robes are discarded; still engrossed in their kiss she expertly undresses him until he's left with nothing but his black underwear.

Eventually breaking the kiss, he steps back a little, letting his hands linger for a split second on the small of her back, then moving lower to pull her into him. While she is raking her fingers through his white-blond hair, he moves on to kissing her neck and throat. An impatient growl breaks free from her throat, wild and full of lust, of an intensity that makes him smirk. Then he feels her hands on his chest. Again he is amazed at the trail of fire they leave on his skin. Briefly he wonders if it feels the same to her.

His thoughts are interrupted by her hand that's gliding lower and lower, down his body. He moans lightly, and instantly resumes his attention to her neck, breaking away only to press a kiss to her lips, still flushed from their previous kiss. While his tongue sneaks teasingly, tantalizingly slow over her lips, he drags his fingernails down her petite frame, not hard enough to leave bloody stains, but to make her shudder with pleasure and kiss him even harder. After a moment of mutual teasing their kiss becomes wilder, hotter, desperate. He feels her pulling at strands of hair in an effort to crush their bodies in every possible way.

Leaving her lips, he trails kisses along her jaw, to her ear, her throat and neck, down and down, slower and slower, as if he wanted to make her pay for his desire. With her he does not feel the urge to dominate, he has the strange feeling he can simply let go. From her little gasps and wanton moans he knows that she wants him the same way. This is nothing more than a chance encounter, based on mutual attraction, based on lust and sex. It doesn't matter what was or what will be, but all that really matters is the moment and the desire pooling in his stomach. His erection presses against her, she must feel it, too.

Then his mouth is on her bra. Impatiently he rips off the pieces of cloth that separates him from her bare skin. The next instant, his tongue is swirling around her nipple, barely grazing her alabaster skin with his teeth. She shudders, and pulls him closer. His hands are closing in on her breasts now, admiring them as they repose in his open palms.

"You are beautiful," he whispers. She brusquely grabs his arm, dragging him behind her to the bed, then pushing him down. She's above him in a second, holding his hands above his head as she begins her assault on his body, grazing his chest with her teeth and trailing her tongue all the way down to his bellybutton. He can't help but shudder a little, a strangled moan escaping his lips. She's so good at this. Of course he hadn't expected her to be a virgin, impossible by the way that she has been responding to him, bold and secure of what she'd been doing.

And, ah, she does know what she's doing after all, for she pulls down his boxers in one swift movement. As the cold air hits his body, she contemplates him for a moment that seems like an eternity. He also looks at her unashamedly. His arousal is almost painful now, yet he is sure she loves feeling him so hard, but unmoving, beneath her. Then she bends her neck graciously, her wonderful hair covering her like a flaming veil.

Her lips are closing over his erection, her tongue feeling so hot, hot, like fire. She swirls it around a little, eliciting a groan in response. He is tempted to let go, but knows he can't.

"You taste like ice," she murmurs softly. He smirks, and in one fluid movement he has turned them around completely. Now it is he that is in control, and he plans to enjoy every second of it. He lifts her hips off the bed, not bothering with any fancy foreplay, and slides her panties down her legs.

Almost lazily he moves his fingers down her belly. Then, feeling her sigh impatiently, he has reached his destination, caressing and stroking until he has her moaning with pleasure. Faster and faster she moans, he feels the wetness building and building between her folds. Oh, he does love that feeling, of having her moaning because of him, he likes knowing that it is him who's making her face flush and her hands hold on to the silky blanket for support. He likes knowing that it is him who's causing her to moan that way and to grind her hips into his rapidly stroking fingers. The wetness is increasing, and her gasps seem to mingle with both their beings, creating an invisible web of protection, of desire and lust around them.

His erection is hard, he is so close to coming as well, but then he sends her over the edge with one final stroke, he feels her shuddering and clenching around his fingers. While she is trying to regain her breath, he bends, grinning, to lick off the last drops of her release with languid strokes.

Positioning himself above her, he kisses her again. Upon tasting herself on his lips, she moans again, a wanton little moan that has him slowly but surely going crazy. Their tongues meet again, softer this time, but fuelled by unbroken desire. His arousal is resting against her bare stomach, her nipples are still hardened.

For the longest time, they stay that way, he above her, propped up on his elbows, she looking unabashedly at him. They stare at each other.

And then, all of a sudden, she can't take it any longer. She turns them so that she is now settled comfortably above him. She kisses him again, quick and hard, before lowering herself onto him. He feels himself gliding into her. She is so tight, so tight, ah, he had not expected her to be quite as hot. Again she is like fire when she starts moving above him. He positions his hands on her hips, guiding her movements, first slow and languid, almost tender, then faster and faster. Her fire is calling him to her, into her, deeper and deeper. Temptation is increasing as she envelops him in a cocoon of fiery red hair, warmth and alabaster skin. Now her fire is all around him, consuming him, beckoning him to follow.

Without thinking he follows the lead. She's riding him faster and faster, her rhythmic movements in perfect sync with the thrusts of his hips. He can feel it coming, coming, already her walls are starting to clench around him. He is aroused, aroused by seeing her hair fall around them like a curtain. They're both gasping and moaning now, one breathy moan followed by a gasp as she comes for the second time. Finally he lets go, gives in to the temptation. With one final thrust he buries himself deep within her shuddering walls. And then he's moaning his own release, still sliding in and out of her as she milks the last drops of his release until she lets out one last shuddery breath and lies down on his chest, her head resting next to his on the pillow.

Instinctively he takes her in his arms as they lay in silence in the aftermath of their union, out of breath, flushed faces and sweaty bodies covering each other. The silence that suddenly reclaims the room is only broken by their shallow breath, still in sync as their chests heave simultaneously.

She was not only temptation, after all, he thinks, smirking lightly. Her passion, her desire and lust, it was nothing more than two bodies wanting, needing each other with unknown force. Cooling fire consuming burning ice; following in their wake only a trail of smoking grey ashes, the symbol of a passionate encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Draco's Girls Series. Inspired by Nightwish's song "She's my sin".
> 
> Thoughts? Drop me a line!


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